“Yes, because my rent's so big. But I cover that by letting the rooms, you see.”
Mrs. Bell considered the orders of this sort. “So far it averages about $25.00 a week; that's doing well.”
“It will be less in summer—much less,” Diantha suggested. “Suppose you call it an average of $15.00.”
“Call it $10.00,” said her mother ruthlessly. “At that it covers your deficit and $110 over.”
“Which isn't much to live on,” Diantha agreed, “but then comes my special catering, and the lunches.”
Here they were quite at sea for a while. But as the months passed, and the work steadily grew on their hands, Mrs. Bell became more and more cheerful. She was up with the earliest, took entire charge of the financial part of the concern, and at last Diantha was able to rest fully in her afternoon hours. What delighted her most was to see her mother thrive in the work. Her thin shoulders lifted a little as small dragging tasks were forgotten and a large growing business substituted. Her eyes grew bright again, she held her head as she did in her keen girlhood, and her daughter felt fresh hope and power as she saw already the benefit of the new method as affecting her nearest and dearest.
All Diantha's friends watched the spread of the work with keenly sympathetic intent; but to Mrs. Weatherstone it became almost as fascinating as to the girl herself.
“It's going to be one of the finest businesses in the world!” she said, “And one of the largest and best paying. Now I'll have a surprise ready for that girl in the spring, and another next year, if I'm not mistaken!”
There were long and vivid discussions of the matter between her and her friends the Pornes, and Mrs. Porne spent more hours in her “drawing room” than she had for years.
But while these unmentioned surprises were pending, Mrs. Weatherstone departed to New York—to Europe; and was gone some months. In the spring she returned, in April—which is late June in Orchardina. She called upon Diantha and her mother at once, and opened her attack.